


A soup to remember

by Ramul



Category: Overlord (Triumph Video Games)
Genre: Awful metaphors, Cooking, F/M, Kitchen Sex, Spanking, phallic vegetables, vegetable abuse, vegetable soup
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-08
Updated: 2019-12-08
Packaged: 2021-02-24 17:01:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21721381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ramul/pseuds/Ramul
Summary: Gnarl was being a dick to Quaver, so he wanted to pay it back to the walnut with ears in his own way. Remember: never treat badly the guy who cooks your food.
Relationships: Quaver/Random Red Minion





	A soup to remember

**Author's Note:**

> Something from 2014. The comparisons and purple prose are terrible, but that was fully intended.

Quaver watched angrily as the turnip pieces he just chucked into the pot sank into the broth of vegetable soup he was cooking. Gnarl was going to pay for this.

The old advisor was precisely the reason for his anger – first he complained about the roasted ferrets being burned, then he noisily interrupted him during his probes for a new song. This vegetable soup was meant as a payback for him. Quaver would simply tell him they were currently out of meat; he knew how much Gnarl hated vegetables.

He wondered how he could make Gnarl's lunch even less appetizing. A simple vegetable soup would not make up for interrupting his probes. He chopped the leaves off another turnip and began to hack it into pieces while plotting a good way to get back at the advisor.

„Something troubling you?“

Quaver turned around to face Ember, a small Red that worked as a helper in the kitchen. In her hands were the carrots and parsnips Quaver had requested.

„No,“ he lied.

„Not telling truth.“

Quaver sighed; Ember knew him too well to be fooled.

„Just Gnarl again. Whatever I do, he is complaining.“ He turned around to tend to the turnip again. „Not only that, he was disturbing me during a probe. What a philistine...“

Ember snickered at his misfortune as she placed the vegetables next to Quaver's turnips, radishes and beetroots. Then, she took a look into the pot with the soup. Quaver in turn looked up from the turnips to take a look at her. Ember wasn't one of the larger minions and somewhat thin, but Quaver could write a dozen ballads about her lovely posterior. Why did he have to hide his intentions with the soup, anyway? He knew he could trust her, and maybe she could provide good input on the issue...

„I am planning to make him lunch that he is not going to enjoy, you know how much he dislikes vegetables. Do you think there are any ways to make it worse?“ he quietly said, after closing the door to the kitchen to keep out any curious ears.

Ember stopped stirring in the soup with a finger and looked at him, scratching her rear with the other hand. „Spit in it. Or use washing water of Greens as base.“

„No, that's not what I want... the former he wouldn't notice, and I just want to give him a nasty lunch, not kill him. I want something simple, but something that can be tasted out, like the stinkbug on the fruit.“

Ember just shrugged.

„Hm, there must be something to add...“ he stared at the low ceiling in thought. Suddenly, he felt the warm touch of Ember's hand on his left shoulder.

„Might not have an idea, but can make you forget instead,“ she said with an ambivalent grin. Her hand slid down his arm.

„No, not now. I need ideas right now, not distraction. Gnarl needs that lesson.“

Ember didn't let go of it. „Maybe need a bit of distraction to have idea.“

„Ember, please. You know yourself how much...“ Quaver began to protest. But then he finally had an idea that made him grin widely. „Actually, I think you just suggested the right thing.“

Ember just grinned as an answer, then her hands quickly slid off Quaver's shoulder and moved on his chest instead. He pulled her close in return, his hands travelling over her back. The left hand quickly made its way down her bony bumps along her spine and slipped past her tail. He heard a sigh from Ember as his claw began to pluck her fold like the string of a harp. With his right hand, he reached for the table and picked a carrot that looked suitable from length and girth. The tip of the carrot rubbed along her back down, slowly rolling over every bump, the whole way to where Quaver wanted it. The touch of the root so close to her treasure trove made her shiver. His left claws parted the fold and he put the tip of the carrot in between. Then, he slowly and gently began to push the orange root inside.

„Playing with food today,“ he heard her hoarse voice next to his ear while her claws dug themselves into the back of his shoulders. „Always so creative with approaches.“

Quaver just grinned and used his left arm to lift Ember's leg to his hips and gave his other hand more room for movement this way. He immediately used this to move the carrot inside her in every fashion he could imagine, thrusting, spinning and pushing like a mad dervish. He could hear Ember's quickening breath and occasional giggles in his ear, as her tongue slid over it and her hands quickly worked themselves down over his back and forwards, until they were resting on the belt of the wrapped fur around his hips. Quaver enjoyed the action on his ears so much he retributed it by increasing the speed and intensity of the carrot's movements.

The belt became unfastened and the fur dropped. Ember's hands were now sliding around Quaver's hips, slowly closing in on their goal. He pushed his own flute out and her hands were immediately on it. Quaver had to stop for a moment and take the sensation in, whincing every time her claws came into contact.

„Careful,“ he said and pulled the carrot out of her. The root was now covered in a layer of her sweet nectar and had acquired a sulphury smell. Out of curiosity, he gave it a lick. The strange taste would be an excellent addition for the soup. Then, he nearly dropped the carrot as Ember lowered herself on his already turgid member. Even though he had done this several times before, the sensation always took his breath, and with the carrot having been there just moments ago, it felt much softer than usual. After he regained his composure, he got an even better idea what to do with the carrot. This session turned out to be a true well of inspiration for him.

The carrot wandered down again, but this time it slowly slipped into Ember's rear. Quaver could feel the invading root sliding past his manhood, tightening the tunnel he was in a good deal with the pressure it created. Ember pinned him now against the table, one leg lifted onto the table's boards and sliding up and down on him. Quaver began to move the carrot counterwise to her movements, pushing the carrot inside when she rose up from his pole and pulling it out when she went down. This new addition made her stumble over her own rhythm and Quaver helped her out by taking lead, his free hand securing her hips. Ember let out a drawn-out sigh that was like music to his ears and her claws dug into the wood of the table, their movements too uncontrolled to remain on Quaver's back without causing any accidental injury.

With this twin assault on Ember's posterior, and the pleasuring both from her inner muscles and the additional pressure from the carrot filling the other hole, Quaver began to tense up himself. Not wanting to enter the second act yet and getting stuck until the play was over, he pushed Ember off and onto the table, where she lay splayed in between the carrots and turnips. Quaver took some time to examine the carrot he used, and grinned. The smell of the carrot was now of the kind he had wanted to add to the soup. Enthusiastically, he quickly chopped it into slices and threw them into the pot, before he tended to Ember again.

Ember lay on the table, her rear hanging over the edge and everything exposed. Being able to see what he usually felt stifled a whole other kind of excitement in him that was different from the excitement of touch. Both gates lay open before him, their pink walls visible and their liquid treasure spilled. Quaver licked his lips as thoughts on the ways he could sack their interiors passed through his mind. Knowing what to do next, he grabbed Ember's legs and turned her onto her stomach, before he picked out an elongate, purple turnip from his stash of vegetables. While his flute found its way into the case by itself when he closed in on her, he used his right hand to pull her tail up and pushed the turnip into her rear with his left. Maneuvering a bit around, he let the turnip's top rest against his stomach and then pushed both his instrument and the turnip fully into her with a single movement. The rather unusual but pleasing sensation of entering a canal that was both softened up by the previous use and tensed up by the space occupied by the turnip above urged him on to thrust into her with growing enthusiasm, pushing the turnip that slipped out by itself in again every time. Quaver was kneading her buns like the dough for the bread he occasionally made for his Master, while she dug furrows into the wood of the table with her claws, panting and shaking from all the attention her other end was getting. He was slowly losing himself inside her and he could feel the tension build up, and soon before it were his own claws digging furrows into the table when he everted fully, the two reedpipes going into depths the pressure of the turnip didn't reach. Just in the next thrust Ember's hoarse breathing turned into a wail and her inner musculature clenched itself around Quaver's now double-ended poker in rhythmic spasms, while her whole body shook in the waves of a climax. When her spasms waned, he stopped moving to give Ember a rest, but he remained lodged inside her. His instincts urged him on to continue, but for now he wanted to enjoy the feeling of the tense and pulsating flesh alone.

He picked up the movement slowly and carefully, to not irritate Ember, who still tensed up and drew in air sharply with every little movement that tickled her freshly-breached gates. Pausing again to give her the time to recover for the next echelon, he took out the turnip and picked out a parsnip from the pile of vegetables instead. Noting how well the pale vegetable went with her red colour, he admired the combination for a little bit when he let the root vanish in her behind, its smaller size giving her rear a much-needed rest. Quaver wiggled it around for a bit, then lodged it against his stomach, like he did with the turnip before; the allure to start moving himself was just too big and Ember seemed to have cooled down enough for a second round of lair invasion. He began slowly, slightly rotating his hips, but the sensations quickly called him for more extensive movements, which he eagerly conducted, watching how Ember's claws dug into the wood of the table again and hearing her breath to become more hoarse. The bells on his hat began to jingle with his rhythm, producing a tune Quaver found rather catchy. With a steadily growing enthusiasm, he extended both the range as well as the reach of his movements, involuntarily changing it into some kind of dance, caught up in the rhythm his bells were giving. Ember noticed it, but she didn't seem to mind, instead she turned her head to watch Quaver's antics.

Ember suddenly winced when Quaver's hand struck her rear, too light to be painful, but strong enough to make her gasp from surprise. He slapped it again and again, more vigorously each time, following the rhythm of his jingling bells. Every strike sent a small jolt through her body, only intensifying the already intense sensations caused by the amount of instruments crammed into her toolbox, which only encouraged him to continue with more vigor. The dance to the rhythm of bell jingles and slaps became more furious with every moment as he pillaged her fleshy treasure chest, and then it came to a fulminant end.

He reached his own climax in an explosion of pleasure and bliss. The entire kitchen seemed to vanish, with only him and Ember remaining in his perception. His entire body tensed up and released a series of spasms, strangely still following the rhythm his bells were jingling. Quaver's senses slowly returned and he heard a hissing to his left.

The pot was overcooking, spilling its contents into the fireplace below, in an imitation of himself and his Red kitchen assistant.

With a still cramped expression, he yanked his fork out of Ember and rushed to the pot to tend to it, forgetting the parsnip in the Red's behind. Hanging the pot a few teeth higher and some violent stirring later, the bubbling was under control again.

„Forgot something?“ Ember looked at him with a slightly bored expression and wiggled her tail, to remind him of the parsnip sticking out below.

Since the soup wasn't trying to get out of the pot and into the fireplace any more, Quaver went to tend to his unfinished work, as there was also a specially seasoned turnip waiting to be chopped up and added to the soup as well, otherwise the already cooking vegetables would be too mushy and tasteless. While Gnarl wouldn't deserve any better, cooking vegetables to mush felt just... unprofessional. Cutting the two root vegetables took longer than usual, as both were still slippery and slid out of his fingers from time to time.

„The soup could still use some more,“ Quaver said, when the slices were dropped into the bubbling fluid.

„Add some _sauce_ for finishing touch,“ he heard from behind. Ember was looking at him with a devilish grin. First, he was not sure what she meant, but then it dawned to him. The soup wasn't the only thing not finished in this kitchen.

On the way back to Ember he picked his loincloth back up, he wouldn't get his flute back into use in that short of time, but he almost wished he could, taking a good look at her rear again. The sauce for the soup was dripping right out of it, and he spotted a nice-looking, fat and warty cucumber to scoop it all up.

Ember gasped when Quaver breached her gates with his new battering ram. Even despite the prolonged siege on her bottom that went on a time longer than any siege before, the cucumber seemed to be a little too big. He watched with fascination how the clashing green vegetable vanished centimeter for centimeter, wart for wart inside her and how Ember quivered in the onslaught of this invasion. The cucumber was partially retrieved to start a new assault, again and again, but always going slowly. But even with this slow and steady speed, Ember's panting, thrashing and shivering got more intense with every moment, until it culminated in her arching her back with a groan and one foot nearly hitting Quaver in the face in its uncontrolled spasms.

Quaver pulled the cucumber out of her conquered lair, generously coated in the pearly sauce that will be the finishing touch to Gnarl's dinner. He grabbed the knife from the table to chop the vegetable directly over the pot, so no drop of the sauce would be lost.

Ember got off the table and staggered in the most awkward gait Quaver had ever seen to the pot and took a look at the last pieces of vegetable vanishing in the brew. „Guess this bad enough to remind Gnarl not to question your music again.“

Unfortunately, Gnarl lauded the vegetable soup after he had finished the entire pot at once, claiming it to be the 'best vegetable soup he had ever had' and told Quaver to make it again, should the kitchens run out of meat another time.


End file.
